Falcon: The Quiet Professionals Book 3 (28 page)

“Fly out?”

“Negative. We’ll head out, avoid the highway—”

“Better chance of staying alive,” Sal agreed.

“Right.”

“We’ll get into position and hit before dawn.”

“And we’re going after the woman?”

“Kiew Tang,” Dean said with a nod.

Bobbing his head, Sal felt the tremors of something else here. “And why are you telling me this before the team?”

“Because the team will include Walker.” Dean’s hazel eyes pinged with meaning.

“You want me to keep an eye on her.”

“Is that a problem?”

“No,” Sal said.

“I have no idea if I can trust her, but she’s already tried to help Tang, so I wouldn’t put it past her to do it again.” Dean angled a shoulder in. “Sal, if she does that, she puts the lives of every man on our team in danger.”

“She won’t.” But even as he said it, Sal had his own doubts.

“Ehhh,” Dean said, his left eye narrowing. “I know you too well. You don’t fully believe that.”

“My reasons are personal, but I do
not
believe she’d compromise a vital mission like this.”

“I’m going to have to trust you because we don’t have any options. Phelps wants this done, which means the POTUS wants it done. So it’s going to get done. I just hope nothing happens that will make me regret this and take action.”

“You and me both.” Sal knew what it meant—Dean would neutralize Cassie if she interfered. He didn’t need a briefing on that. He knew how things would go down. It was his job to make sure Cassie stayed in line. Did as she was ordered. If she didn’t…

“You won’t be alone, Sal. Riordan’s going in with his men—they’re secondary, but you and I both know that Ramsey is hand-feeding Riordan orders. If they get a whiff of anything negative with Walker, I can guarantee you he’s been given orders to take her out of the equation.”

Kabul, Afghanistan
5 April—0350 Hours

Weighted with the tactical gear, vest, and helmet, Cassie waited in the darkness with Raptor team and the SEAL team. After an “all quiet” order, they waited in the bombed-out building that had more rubble than roof and waited for the signal to move closer. Less than a klick from Takkar Towers, they’d rushed along the empty streets and sneaked in through the garage level.

But for now, they sat. In silence.

She might not have been an operative long, but Cassie could read body language and their deafening silence. These men did not trust her. And maybe it stirred a mutual distrust in her. If they decided she did wrong on this mission, would they act against her? She’d been trained to expect that. And with the wary and annoyed glances, they seemed ready to pounce.

Sal squatted against the far wall, talking quietly, marking in the dirt and strategizing with Riordan and Hawk. This was where he thrived. Among his men, keyed to the mission. Resolute focus, gifted with strategy, Sal seemed born to be a warrior. And add in his Latino heritage and Italian blood—a volatile and beautiful mixture.
Gorgeous
didn’t come close to the right description for him. She’d fallen hard and fast for the gregarious Special Forces soldier when he served stateside before his second deployment.

How many times had he come over here since… Vida? Must’ve been a lot—he’d changed so much. Back then, he seemed untouched by war. Or rather, it had not taken as great a toll on him.

He reached toward the floor, brushing something aside then scratching in the dirt as Riordan and Hawk looked on, nodding and pointing. His bicep, etched with a tattoo of an inverted rifle, tugged against his black tactical shirt. She’d seen the tattoo shortly after arriving here. Was that for Vida? Or another fallen comrade? Either way, it tugged at her heart how much pain he’d gone through.

Only as she thought of it did she notice his sleeves were down now. Interesting, considering Sal’s pride in his buff build. The men beside him had theirs cuffed either right above or below their elbows.

Cutting. She really hoped she was wrong. He’d always been an intense person, despite his easy laugh and jokes. Even now, she saw the lingering moodiness. It seemed much more pronounced since Huachuca.

“How long have you known him?”

Cassie flinched and looked to the side, where Harrier sat propped against the wall, arms draped lazily over his knees. “What?”

“Falcon. How long have you known him?”

Averting her gaze would only fuel the fire. “About five years.” She turned her attention to the team medic. “How long have you been with Raptor?”

“Two years. I’m the fresh meat—well, that is, until Knight and Ddrake”—he nodded to the German shepherd, snoozing slumped against his handler in the corner—“joined. Took the newb heat off me.”

She couldn’t help the smile. “I bet that was nice.”

He laughed. “You have no idea. They can be brutal.”

“They?” Cassie tilted her head. “You’re one of them, aren’t you?”

“The Captain, Hawk, and Falcon are more intense than me. I’ve only been deployed three times. They’ve been here a half-dozen times.”

“You think that’s why they’re intense?” She tried not to mock him. If she believed the war is what made Sal intense, he had no clue. “Sal’s been keyed up since the first day I met him. But he was funny, too. That’s what drew me in.”

“Funny?” He laughed again. “I can’t see that.”

“Yeah,” Cassie said softly. “Neither can I—not anymore.”

“Listen up,” Sal called as the nearly half-dozen warriors came alive from their relative quiet and slumber. “Eagle’s in position. Guard change happens in thirty. Gear up. We’re going in.”

Cassie hopped to her feet and hurried over to where Sal knelt double-checking and securing his gear. “Hey.” She went to her knees. “What’s the plan?”

Lifting an M4 from the floor, Sal shrugged. “Just stay close.”

“Stay close?” Cassie tried to keep the ridicule from her words and failed miserably. “I’m entering a building—”

“You’re part of a team making a dangerous insertion.” Sal went to his feet and so did Cassie. “You stay close and keep your head down. Your job is to verify Tang’s identity.”

“And not get in the way,” Hawk murmured as he walked past, slinging his weapon over his chest.

“Sal.” Cassie pursed her lips and stepped closer. “Do not do this—don’t treat me like some wannabe. I’m trained—”

“I’m treating you like a part of my team. The mission is to get Tang. Get out. It’s not that hard.”

“And it’s not that easy either,” she hissed.

“Thirteenth floor insertion. Sweep the condo. Find the asset. If we make it that far, you verify the package. That’s all. Nothing complicated.”

“Why are you doing this?”

He lifted his helmet and secured the straps beneath his chin. “Doing what?”

“Treating me like—”

“You’re a spy?” His eyebrow arched and those rich brown eyes nailed her with her own deception. “Yeah, I have no idea why I’d do that.” He lifted his hand, making a group-up motion to the others.

“Sal.” Cassie caught his arm as he tried to move away and noticed him flinch.

His expressive eyes hit her hand. Then her eyes. His silent warning to let go.

“Please—I’m just doing my job. And I want to be sure Kiew isn’t hurt.”

With a snort, he cuffed her wrist and freed himself. “And I’m doing mine.” He inclined his head toward the team huddling at the door. “Which is leading this mission. Now, you’re ready or you’re not. Either way, we’re going in.” He pivoted and strode through the darkness toward the others. “Let’s rodeo.”

Shanghai, China

With a snifter of vodka in hand, Jin tugged on the belt of his silk robe and made his way to his office down in the secure facility beneath his penthouse where his mother clung to the frail threads of life. He should remain at her side, suspecting these were her final hours, but the strange thing about life was that it waited for no one.

He accessed his private office, draped in obsidian lacquer and stainless steel. The cool air and atmosphere soothed the roiling acid in his veins. At his desk, he set down the crystal glass, pressed a button, and ran a hand through his hair. Steady whirring preceded a five-by-eight screen sliding from the ceiling in front of the painting hanging over the credenza. As he eased back in the chair without a squeak or groan, Jin reached for his liquor.

White glared angrily across the room as the screen sprang to life.

Ah, that word again—life. So powerful and yet so… fragile. It could be powerful in its force, the opposite of death. And so susceptible to a button. One flick of his finger and it would die.

The screen. And Kiew.

The resolution adjusted as the camera in the thirteenth-floor condo snapped alive. The living room lay empty and dark. He glanced at the clock and saw the early hour there. It made sense. Tapping a few keys switched the camera.

His heart quickened. He zoomed in as Kiew lay on the satin sheets on her side, her back to the spying lens. So still. So small in that enormous bed. Black hair spilled across the gray sheets that shone as white beneath the pale moonlight that streamed in through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows.

Rubbing a finger over his lip, he watched. Remembered nights of passion. Remembered the lure of the chase to secure her. That first night he’d seen her in the club with her friends she’d been small and insignificant… yet stunning. Her silver dress hugging her curves. He’d pursued her for months. Learned of her brilliance. Her way with computers and technology. Assets he had been searching for to exact his revenge against the Americans.

A buzzing wormed through his thoughts, his mind seeped in the past.

Jin blinked and saw the red light on his phone flashing. Registered the vibrating buzz of the handset. He lifted it. “What do you want?”

“Sir, you were right.”

His nostrils flared as he finally accepted her betrayal. When had she made contact with the Americans? How could she do this after all he had given her? After the position he set her upon? But he’d listened to his instincts. Followed his—as the Americans would say—gut.

“Sir, it could have been the Sikh.”

Jin lifted his chin, considering the words. It was true—the Sikh could have betrayed him. He’d left the country on business almost as quickly as Jin had. “Perhaps.”

“Should we interfere?”

“No. How long now?”

“Fifteen minutes, maybe ten. No more.”

He stared at her unmoving image. At what point would she rise from the bed and feign surprise? “Good. Let it happen.”

CHAPTER 23

Kabul, Afghanistan
5 April—0400 Hours

G
o go go!” Night-vision goggles on and M4 tucked against his shoulder, Sal scurried forward through the night-darkened streets. His boots crunched over the rocks and litter like a booming homing beacon. Ears registering every sound and rustle, Sal’s nerve endings buzzed with anticipation of discovery and failure.

Ahead by a half klick, Knight and Ddrake had taken point, ready to sniff out the enemy and give the team advance notice of possible confrontation. Sal silently whispered a prayer of thanks that he’d fought to get the MWD team assigned to Raptor. Knight was sharp and Ddrake—well, the MWDs defied explanation with their thousand-word command vocabulary and their incredible instinct for trouble.